


When You Bend the Knee

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: (of a sort), Anal Sex, Barebacking, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Historical Fantasy, Humiliation, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Overstimulation, Predicament Bondage, Prisoner of War, Prostate Stimulation, Rimming, Sexual Slavery, Spit As Lube, Spoils of War, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-03-31 21:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13983714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "Yes, he will still sit on a throne, but only when he’s riding my cock."Khigar, Warlord of the Kadezji, makes good on his promise to sit Sasha on his throne.





	When You Bend the Knee

**Author's Note:**

> This is the "other side" of a novel-length F/F origfic I am writing, which is being posting to fail_fandomanon. The sections of that can be found at [pastebin](https://pastebin.com/gGEDubtC).
> 
>  **Content notes** : This story includes sexual slavery, and not of the consensual, fun BDSM kind. Consent, while never denied, is also not given freely. This is presented in a somewhat romanticized way, with the slave beginning to enjoy his captivity. Please read responsibly. More extensive notes regarding exact sexual situations can be found after the story.
> 
> Title is from the the episode "Spoils of War" of Game of Thrones.

The barbarian lounged on the throne that should have been Sasha’s, his long black hair spilling over the gilt carvings like ink, and Sasha clenched his teeth to bite back the curse that begged to break free as he crossed the large receiving room toward the throne, flanked by two guards. The man smiled at his approach, and stood, extending his hands toward Sasha in a parody of the royal welcome. “Ah, my pet,” he murmured in Edhessean as his eyes raked over Sasha’s nearly naked body. “Come, sit.”

Sasha knelt next to the throne where the man indicated, knees pressing into the hard stone floor. His escorts melted back into the wall, while other barbarians streamed into the receiving room, paying fealty to a faux king on a stolen throne. He’d taken lessons from his tutor in the barbarian tongue, but Sasha had never had the aptitude for languages that his sister did, and he understood little of what was said. The chill of the flagstones beneath him seeped through the thin trousers he’d been given after his bath, and he began to shiver.

The barbarian’s hand came down to rest on the top of his head, and Sasha froze. The hazy, drugged memories of the first day after his capture were fresh in his mind, and his back still bore painful red welts from his last attempt at disobedience. Would he be punished for his body’s unconscious reactions? But instead of pain, the man simply stroked his hair, an absent gesture that simultaneously comforted Sasha and angered him. He was a Prince of the Blood, not a dog, and yet he felt a strange desire to push back against that hand in a silent plea for more.

Emotions running riot, Sasha didn’t noticed that the room had emptied until the barbarian removed his had. Sasha looked up, startled, and saw him smiling down. “Ah, my prince,” he cooed, crouching down until he could place one rough finger under Sasha’s chin. “So beautiful,” he murmured, then leaned in to press a kiss to Sasha’s mouth.

Sasha gasped in surprised, letting the barbarian’s tongue slip between his lips. He tried to move away, but the once gentle hand gripped his chin hard to keep him in place as the barbarian plundered his mouth. He wanted ignore the kiss, to pretend it was happening to someone else, but for all that he was a usurper and bastard of the highest order, the warlord was an incredible kisser, and against his will, Sasha found himself kissing him back. The man let out a pleased groan and his grip loosened as he continued to lick and nip at Sasha’s mouth.

When he finally pulled away, Sasha swayed toward him unconsciously. The man laughed, but the sound wasn’t mocking. “Yes, let me take care of you, my beautiful prince,” he said, pulling Sasha to his feet. He whimpered and stumbled, his legs asleep from too long in one position, but the man caught him easily, pulling Sasha tight against his broad chest. Standing, he was shorter than Sasha by a few inches, which seemed wrong in a way Sasha couldn’t quite articulate. 

The barbarian led Sasha to the throne, and sat just on the edge of the seat, tugging Sasha back to his knees. “Down, my prince,” he said, voice like velvet over steel.

Sasha sank down to his knees, feeling a strange sense of lightness as he did so. The man spread his thighs wide. “What do you want, Iskandr?” he asked, the full form of his name sounding strange in the barbarian’s accent. “Do you want to kneel before the throne? Or would you like to sit on it?”

Confused, Sasha looked up, unconsciously licking his lips at the blatant desire on the man’s face. “I—" he stopped speaking so quickly his teeth clicked together, remembering what happened the last time he’d spoken without permission.

The man smiled, obviously pleased. “You’re learning quickly, prince. You have my permission to answer questions directed toward you.”

He swallowed, certain this was some sort of trick, but just as sure that neither option would allow him to walk out of this room a free man. “I would like to sit on the throne,” he whispered, voice raw.

The barbarian’s smile widened. “I hoped you’d say that,” he said, pulling Sasha to his feet. “Take off your pants,” he ordered, and blushing, Sasha complied. “Mmm, I love how your pale skin reddens so easily,” the man said, dragging the back of his knuckles over Sasha’s bare chest, stopping to pinch his puffy, bruised nipples. Sasha couldn’t bite back the gasp of mingled pain and arousal, nor could he hide the way his cock jerked in response. “So sensitive,” the barbarian cooed, “so perfect for me. Turn around, little prince, let me see your beautiful ass.”

Sasha whimpered in embarrassment, but turned, presenting his back to the man who’d stolen his throne. The full splendor of his father’s throne room stretched out before him, the tapestries on the walls showing scenes of Edhesseans standing triumphantly over the defeated bodies of their foes—all dressed in leather Kadezji armor. The stark contrast between that fantasy and Sasha’s reality—Edhesseas’s defeat and Sasha’s own enslavement—churned in his gut as the barbarian’s calloused hands kneaded his asscheeks.

He gasped again as the man caressed one of the welts that lined his skin. “I love seeing my marks on you,” the man said, settling his hands on Sasha’s hips. He tugged lightly, and Sasha stepped back until his heels banged up against the base of the throne. “Spread your legs, my lovely,” the barbarian said, arranging Sasha’s limbs until his feet were a little wider than shoulder-width apart. “Good, good. Now, I want you to bend over and place your hands flat on the floor.” Sasha stiffened and drew in a breath to speak, but it turned into a harsh whine as the man dug his knuckle into the same welt he’d just grazed. “Bend over,” he repeated, voice hard.

Sasha did, thanking all the ancestors that no one else was here to witness his humiliation as the barbarian spread his asscheeks with his strong hands, exposing his hole. Tears of shame leaked out from his tightly closed eyes as the barbarian flicked his tongue against Sasha’s ass, causing his cock to harden even further. He hummed happily to himself as he lazily tongued Sasha’s hole, his spit dripping down past Sasha’s balls. 

Too soon, his calves were burning from the strain of holding himself still, and each time he nearly lost his balance, he pushed his ass back into the man’s face. Against his will, his cock had hardened fully, and it lay flat against his stomach, smearing precome over his abs. He bit his lip to keep from begging the man to touch it.

Just when he thought he’d collapse, the man pulled away, leaving Sasha trembling and bereft. “Stand up, little prince,” he ordered, and Sasha felt a thrill of pride at the roughness of his voice. He straightened, arching his back a little more than necessary, pleased when that earned him an approving moan. “Come to me, beautiful,” he murmured, using his grip on Sasha’s hips to pull Sasha into his lap.

Sasha straddled his thighs, feeling the man’s cock naked and hard against his ass, a contrast to the feel of the rough wool still clothing his thighs. “Mmm, yes, you’re so eager for my cock, aren’t you, lovely? You don’t want to want it, but you know how good I make you feel,” he said as he lifted Sasha and positioned his spit-lubed hole over his cock. “You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you?”

Sasha whimpered something that might have been an agreement or denial as the head of the barbarian’s cock breached him, easily pushing past the relaxed ring of muscle. It burned, and he couldn’t stop more tears from falling, but he didn’t fight or argue, sinking down until he felt the rough scratch of pubic hair on his ass. His feet were flat on the floor and his hands were in his lap, until his master pulled them up and placed them around his own neck. Sasha buried his fingers into the thick spill of black hair, breathing heavily through his nose as rough fingers caressed his chest, teasing and pinching his nipples before sliding slowly down his stomach to encircle his cock.

His master leaned in, his breath hot on Sasha’s ear as he slowly stroked his erection. “Look at your kingdom, my prince. I will give you everything, but you will be mine. Your ass is mine,” he said, punctuating the statement with a rough upward thrust, “your mouth is mine, your cock is mine, and someday, your very soul will be mine. But for now, I will settle for your pleasure.” He alternated fucking up into Sasha’s ass with rough tugs of his cock, bringing him quickly to the brink of orgasm, then over, as Sasha came with a cry, spilling over his master’s hand and his own lap. 

His master didn’t stop fucking him, instead tilting their hips so the head of his cock slammed into Sasha’s prostate with each rough thrust. Sobbing openly now, Sasha felt himself trying to harden as the sensations arced through him, setting his nerves on fire until pleasure blended with pain and his half-hard cock spasmed, a pitiful amount of come mingling with his previous release. “Please, please, please,” he chanted in time with the thrust, unsure if he was asking his master to stop or keep going.

“Yes, my beautiful boy,” he said, voice strained. “Yes, you are mine.” His grip on Sasha’s hips tightened and he slammed him down one last time, and then his master was coming inside him, filling him with his hot seed, and Sasha had never felt bliss like this as he collapsed back against his master’s chest.

Sasha’s eyes fluttered open as his master shifted underneath him. The come on his stomach was cold and sticky, and the cock in his ass had softened enough that it slipped out, indicating he’d drifted for some time. He grunted unhappily at the feeling of liquid dribbling out of him, and the barbarian chuckled fondly, rubbing his hands against Sasha’s upper arms to warm them. “Don’t worry, my little prince. I will give you more to replace what you’ve lost.”

Sasha bit back the curse that leapt to his tongue, knowing anger would do him no favors. Instead, he stood, slightly unsteady on his legs, and reached for his discarded trousers.

Before he could put them on, the man caught his wrist. “No, no, you’ll only get them messy,” he said, smirking as he pried Sasha’s fingers open and took the garment. Sasha blew an angry breath out of his nose and glared at the bastard, whose smirk never faltered. “If you’re good,” he added, stepping in close and cupping Sasha’s soft, sticky cock with his free hand, “I might ride that pretty cock of yours tonight.”

Despite himself, arousal stirred in Sasha’s gut at the thought of fucking up into that firm, muscular ass, tight from a lifetime of riding horses. He must have given some sign, as the smirk turned into a chuckle. “You like that thought, my beautiful boy? I thought you might.” He dropped his hand and walked away, leaving Sasha standing alone. He was nearly to the door of the throne room when he stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Well, come on.”

Sasha followed.

**Author's Note:**

> Sasha is a prisoner of war to the general of a conquering army. He is forced to kneel for him, strip naked in a public place (while alone), put into a stress position while receiving oral sex (rimming), receives anal sex until orgasm, endures prostate stimulation until another orgasm, and then is forced to walk in public naked and covered in semen. There is also mention of corporal punishment and drugging.


End file.
